The Edo Coven
by Yaya 75
Summary: One of those post-series fics again. The leadership of SOLOMON International has plans for Robin Sena that may or may not include Amon. Background chapters up.
1. Prologue

The Longest Night

It was the longest night, when autumn finally gave way to winter and the world turned in darkness for longer than any other part of the year. For Maria Toudou, who had just given birth to her one and only child, she knew it was also the last night she would live.

It had been worth it. Her death for this one life. In another part of the world, she knew they were lighting fires for the birth of this child. _My hope_.

The labor had been incredibly easy, but that was true of all births attended to by Ysabelle Sena, a midwife gifted in the easing of pain. It was a small compensation, the freedom from pain. All Maria cared about was that her child had come into the world with a cry of wonderment, joy to her ears. Even with the pain in her mother's face, Maria felt that this was enough.

She could feel herself slipping in and out of the darkness, but then a firm squeeze from her sister, Margaret, and she opened her eyes. Blue and stormy met green and calm, "Maria, she's beautiful."

Ysabelle brought the child forward, tipping her so that both her daughters could get a look at the newest member of their family, "All ten fingers and ten toes."

She put on a brave face, Ysabelle did. Though deceptively fragile looking because of her small stature, she had a will of steel and for both of them to see her making an effort to keep her resolve was disconcerting.

Ysabelle Sena had survived much in her years. She had outlived her parents and two siblings through one of the major purging of witches in Europe. Twenty years later she had survived the accidental death of her husband, succumbing to weakness only once, resulting in Maria's birth thirteen months after Rafael's death.

Maria looked so like Ysabelle that the mother could have almost claimed the child a clone, except for the green eyes, proof of that moment of weakness between grieving widow and a dead husband's older brother.

_I would do it over and over again,_ Ysabelle thought as she placed a kiss on her daughter's cold cheeks. _What are we if have nothing to leave in this life?_

It was the same thought she had when Maria had told her she was pregnant. Her headstrong daughter had always known the risks of having a child; doctors had warned her of it for years. But it had always been in her youngest's nature to defy the gods. It was amazing she had survived to adulthood, Ysabelle thought. A shiver ran along her spine as she glanced at her daughter, her face paler than death. _Not such a surprise then for one who has time and time again tested the gods._

Maria _felt_ it then. The pain, the worry, the utter sadness. Her words were not comforting, "It is what I wanted, Mother."

Ysabelle nodded, but that did in no way stop the tears from falling. Her baby, her Maria was _dying._

_The Goddess has much planned for you. May you find the peace that comes with this task,_ Roman de Luca, the head of Solomon International had told her when she was little older than a child. She had nodded with the fearlessness of the young, accepting what the gods would ask of her – and like her own father accepting what Roman asked of her.

As Ysabelle placed the baby in her hands, Maria did feel an immense peace come over her. _If I die before I wake… I leave my daughter for my place to take;_ she rearranged the English rhyme to her liking.

She saw it then, a light behind her mother. Blinking, the room again came into focus. The light was still there, but blocking it now was Father Juliano. _Father, do you see what I have brought into this world? Hope for the future of humanity._

Ysabelle heard the footsteps as someone entered and turned. _Juliano_._ Do you come to judge, or do you come to erase your sins?_

"Come see your granddaughter, Juliano… She has your eyes," Margaret said, still holding Maria's hand in her own. Only Margaret would dare acknowledge the clandestine relationship aloud.

As he stepped forward, the light caught in Juliano's green eyes, regarding his niece with little kindness. They were tenuous allies at best – and only when it came to Ysabelle and Maria.

Margaret's own blue eyes narrowed as she saw the jagged blade of his knife before he concealed it in the folds of his robes. Juliano was no fool. If he had thought to kill Maria in her weakened state, he was immediately diverted from the plan when he found both Ysabelle and Margaret there. Separately he did not know if he could take them, together he knew that he could not prevail.

He came closer, his hands crossed in front of him, coming to stand at the empty spot by Maria's right. Across from him Margaret kept her vigil. Slowly he lowered his face to finally look at his own daughter. Her eyelids fluttering as if she were fighting to keep awake. Daughter whispered to father, "Look, Juliano. She's beautiful."

The light was brighter now. And moving towards her. _Will I become the devil he thinks I am, or will I go to heaven? Maybe Uncle Rafael will greet me… and I won't be alone._

Lying there, he knew he was undone. There was no way he could kill his only child, no matter what sin had brought her into this world. Leaning forward, Juliano placed a kiss on her forehead and glanced at the baby in her arms, the little eyes still closed. _What has become of you, Juliano, that you would take the life of an innocent babe? One whose only sin is being born from a Seed. _

His niece on the other hand, there were days Juliano could kill his niece. He straightened again and regarded Margaret whose smile did not reach her eyes. _Had she read my mind?_ It was a residual Craft among the Sena women, but never a strong one.

They were too alike, he and Margaret, his brother's daughter. So quick to judge – right often enough that they made no attempt to change their character – and so slow to forgive. Margaret had always looked at him with Rafael's eyes, blaming him.

He had to remind himself that Margaret was not his concern at the moment.

"You're cold," Juliano noted as his lips left Maria's forehead. He glanced toward Ysabelle who had come to sit on the bed next to Margaret, her eyes filling with tears. She did not say anything, instead twining her hand in their daughter's hair.

"It'll be fine. Everything is going to be fine. Mother. Margaret. Juliano," Maria's eyes fluttered again. _What will you do with your life, little one? _She asked the baby silently. She hugged her close and took the smell of her in … _she smells like life._

"Ysabelle, what's wrong with-" Juliano inquired.

"Will you do me a favor?" Maria interrupted, her head turning towards her sister. The light was so _bright!_

Margaret's hands were warm as they came to Maria's cheek.

"Anything for you," Margaret replied.

"Make sure they name her Robin. Hiro likes that name," she said her breath labored as she pushed the words out. "And tell her… tell her I loved her."

Juliano thought that his brother's death had changed him, but as his daughter lay dying, holding Robin in her arms, he knew that he had not understand pain until this moment.

Silence reigned between them. Juliano glanced towards the doorway, finding that he felt as if he were the odd man out. It was time for him to leave, to give the women their final privacy.

Maria had other plans and spoke again, "Mother, Margaret, I would like a few moments with Juliano."

Ysabelle's eyes widened with hurt but a look passed between the three of them. Leaning her face close to Maria's, mother and daughter shared a few words and then in a flurry, Maria was left alone with her father and her child.

"Will you give me last rites?" She asked suddenly, her breath labored as she tried to sit up. Juliano arranged the pillows behind her and they looked at each other, green eyes betraying their kinship.

"I thought you were no longer a Catholic," he whispered, but reached for a chair, taking the seat closer to her bed.

"It still comforts me," she said.

He pulled out a rosary and wound his hands around it, saying a prayer over her.

The light was incredibly warm, warmer than Margaret's hand had been, warmer than Ysabelle's breath even. It hovered behind Juliano and Maria reached out for it with one hand, her other hand firmly holding Robin in place.

Juliano swallowed seeing the contentment on her face. "I think that God has already taken care of your future, child."

"Yes, I think He has – no matter what evil you feared inside me, " She brought her hand down and lifted her daughter off her chest, "She is our future… yours, mine, everyone's."

"Toudou-" The order had been given for his extermination. Solomon top brass did not take insubordination lightly.

"I understand," she said. "Will you take care of her, when they come for him?" The light touched her face and she smiled brightly. _I am not afraid._

"I will try."

"Thank you... Father." She lifted the babe in her arms, towards him and all he could do was nod as he finally held his granddaughter. She was a tiny thing like Maria had been. She blinked, and emerald eyes stared into his. For the second time in a little over twenty years, he understood the concept of unconditional love.

He glanced back at his daughter, to tell her his revelation but it was too late for his admission. His heart stopped for a second as he saw that she stared at him with unseeing eyes, the look of peace on her face.

Closing her eyes, he prayed, "God be with you, my child."

_

* * *

Boston, Massachusetts _

"Scholars believe that the Catholic savior was most likely born in spring," Henri said casually as he and Sienna shared some of her mother's spiked cider. He flinched as the taste hit the back of his throat.

Roman Lucas, their father, moved from the window and turned to regard the three people in the room. His daughter Sienna sat uncharacteristically quiet as she used the cider to keep her hands warm.

Roman's second oldest, Henri hated silence even more so and continued in his attempt to draw Sienna out of her reverie, "Perhaps we should start demanding that Christmas be celebrated near the summer solstice instead of winter's."

Sienna continued to ignore him, her eyes locked somewhere on the opposite wall, the oil painting of the nativity dominating. Carlo gave it a secondary glance, wondering if the child born that day over two thousand years ago would have preferred to stay in heaven had he known God's plan.

He wondered about the child born this longest night. What did her future hold? And his old eyes settled on his son, Carlo. They passed each other in their move to exchange places, Roman to take the seat and Carlo to take the spot by the window.

Carlo gazed out into the back of their home. The acolytes had lit the pyres, five of them in the shape of a perfect star. From his vantage point on the third floor, Carlo could make out Sienna's mother walking the perimeter of the star, creating a rim of fire. They all wore white, but his stepmother Amara was the only one who could drag the fires from the pyres.

Carlo thought it was an odd mixture of old and new as he watched the telltale flash of Amara's cell phone as she pulled it from her robes to her ear. The phone on his father's desk rang and Roman picked it up.

"Yes? I saw… Juliano called?... I see. And the child? … Perfect. What was… Robin…. Robin Sena. A good name… Yes, continue…. I'll make the arrangements," He placed the receiver back on its cradle and settled back in his seat.

An ocean separated them, but Carlo knew that Maria had passed from this world into the next. He shivered and would have sworn that he heard her voice in his head. But even he did not have that strong a gift. The dead spoke to him, to Roman even, but they were the dead that roamed the old house, the streets of Boston – not the dead of thousands of miles away. For a moment, he wished he had that power.

"Maria died giving birth toa girl child," Roman whispered. "They have named her Robin Sena."

Henri stood and in passing Sienna, he squeezed her shoulder. She was about four years younger the Maria and the two young women were close friends. She seemed to crumble under her brother's touch and he grabbed the cider from her hands as doubled over, crying into her hands.

Roman hated tears. He looked again at the oil painting, and remembered the young woman whose smile had lit up a room. _Ah, Maria, braver than any of us in the end_, the thought to himself wiping the sting of tears in his eyes.

"Tonight is not just the longest night of the entire year," Henri whispered to his brother as he came to stand by him still holding his sister's cup. "It will be the longest night for the next 10,000 years."

Carlo remained impassive; fire reflected in his storm blue eyes. Henri gave the cup to Carlo, and he drank it quickly throwing his head back.

Henri continued, "It means that this will be her darkest night. No other night will hold such fear for our little Robin, Carlo. There will always be more light in her future than the day she was born."

It did little to comfort Carlo's soul.

_

* * *

Italy, Christmas Day…_

Most of them wore white, Maria's favorite color. They walked the hills outside of the village she had lived in all her life, hundreds of them from far and wide.

"My Maria would have wanted it this way," Ysabelle whispered as she stood next to Juliano.

He could hear the tears in her voice, even though he dared not look in her direction, those blue eyes had always been his greatest weakness. Instead he continued to stare at the pyre set in the middle of the field, his Maria – her Maria – ah their Maria lying in state on a bier of cypress. With Maria's death, his greatest sin was ended…. But his greatest grief had begun.

He heard a cry and turned to see Margaret walking towards them, the baby cooing in her arms. He fought the urge to take Robin away from her aunt. The young woman stopped a few inches from them, her blue eyes locking with Juliano's and pain crossed her face. He knew what she saw, Maria's eyes in his older face.

Though both headstrong like their mother, Margaret had always been the stronger daughter. When her father had died, Margaret had not even cried. Something in the five year old child had turned against God that day and Juliano knew that she was following a path he could not stop her from taking. He wondered then, if his younger brother looked down at them – Rafael had been the true saint among them – and still saw something worth saving.

_Robin is worth saving, I believe, _Juliano thought and instinctively reached for his granddaughter.

"Mother, everyone is ready," Margaret spoke, handing the baby to Juliano. They shared a glance. For Margaret, Juliano was the only one who understood the loss of a sibling. Ironic that the death of the one person they loved the most gave them an understanding into each other.

Though Juliano understood their pain was nothing compared to Ysabelle's. He had loved Maria, but never been a father to her – his devotion spoken for by Church, Solomon, Roman Lucas.

Ysabelle had raised both the girls alone, and while Margaret had the security of being her father's child, Maria had born the stigma of being a bastard – born over a year after Rafael had died. Ysabelle had protected her daughter with a vengeance.

Juliano knew that Maria had figured out their real relationship – she was a smart girl, or perhaps Margaret had figured it out and both had taken it with aplomb beyond their years. After all their most important roles had always been as Ysabelle's daughters, nothing more important.

_Until they became of age, silly man,_ Ysabelle had said in one of her rare moments when they could actually speak to each other without twenty years of guilt between them.

His eyes settled on Toudou Hiroshi. _Hiro_. His eyes narrowed at the man who had used Maria. She had been such an innocent, duped by what she thought was kindness, but Juliano knew his type – Toudou was a creature of some higher god. Juliano understood the concept, Solomon had ruled most of his life. For Hiro it had been science. _He does not even care about his own child. _

He looked at his granddaughter, searching in her green eyes any signs of Toudou and finding to his satisfaction that there was nothing there – wisps of blonde hair grew in patches and her eyes were completely Maria's. _Like your mother before you, you may as well have passed completely from a woman. There is no hand of man in you, my lovely Robin. _

Toudou, as if he knew he was being watched turned to regard the odd trio of guardians they made around Robin. He was afraid of Juliano – the man was the greatest hunter ever produced by Solomon, and Toudou was no fool. Juliano had named the girl Robin Sena, and Toudou had not fought it, reluctantly foregoing any connection between him and the child.

It made him look like a coward to Juliano, but he hoped that it would protect the girl. _Robin, I do all of this for you and your mother. Remember me kindly when the time comes._

He turned to watch the setting sun behind the pyre. He had been one of the first ones to arrive on the scene and he had gotten a good look at Maria. As in life, there was calmness about her he had always admired. Truth, he had found her fascinating because she was a child of the Sena line, but in a very short period of time he found himself falling in love with the angel she was. In the end they had made their peace, and it was enough to know that they had settled everything between them – even if the rest of the world did not.

Juliano was distracted from other thoughts of Toudou when he felt the heat flowing from Ysabelle beside him. For a second he looked around the crowd with the eyes of a hunter instead of a priest. _If she uses her Craft, will I be able to take her down?_

He calmed as he finally did stare into her blue eyes. There was grief plain to see, but no madness. He had seen enough madness in his time: the emptiness in the eyes of one who had come to their Craft late in light. Ysabelle and her kin came to their Craft early, some around the same time they began to walk.

He had waited to see if Maria's power would manifest early, and when she had passed her thirteenth year without even the slightest show of Craft, Juliano had prayed for three days straight to his God in thanks.

Today he truly wondered for the first time in his life… if having Craft meant that she would have had some power to survive her daughter's birth, would he have wished it otherwise? He pushed the thought into the deepest recess of his soul with all the other things he did not want to rehash.

Margaret stepped forward, following a few steps behind Ysabelle. The sun was low in the sky and it would only be a few moments before they would light the pyre. A wave of emotion shot through Margaret as she remembered the last time she had spoken with Maria. She faltered in her step -

"_You won't tell anyone will you?" Maria had asked, pressing her hands into Margaret's. They were in Margaret's house in Rome, and Maria had dragged her older sister up the stairs to her private room._

"_Does he even know?" Margaret wondered, staring at her sister's lovely face. _

_  
Maria nodded, "Yes he knows... and you… and Sienna. Sienna knows… So the four of us, always the four of us."_

"_Goddess, Maria, what were you thinking?"_

_She shrugged, "I wasn't. I just wanted to feel loved for the first time, really, really loved, Margaret. You understand that, don't you?"_

"_So it was just once?" _

_Maria blushed, shaking her head, her hand finding the roundness of her belly the most fascinating thing in her young life. "It was only supposed to be once… but, oh, Margaret, it was so-"_

"_I don't need the details, sister."_

_Maria giggled and then her voice just above a whisper asked, "You don't hate me, do you?"_

Hate? There could be no hate between these sisters.

Ysabelle's eyes scanned the crowd as she continued in her steady move forward.. They narrowed as she fell on the man who dared to get close to the bier. _Hiroshi Toudou. _The man her daughter had married, the man who Ysabelle blamed for all this, even though part of her knew it was irrational. She made a step towards Toudou and found a hand at her elbow.

"Mother."

Ysabelle blinked as she and Margaret locked gazes, "Margaret. They're all here."

"Yes, Mother, they're all here."

It was Margaret's turn to scrutinize the crowd one last time. It was then that she saw him. He stood close to the pyre, a little behind Toudou, but no one could miss him and his family. Roman de Luca – _Lucas,_ Margaret corrected herself, Roman Lucas. They had changed their name in America from the Italian. They were a mix of anyway as Roman always had an eye for exotic women. His first wife was Japanese, and his second was Greek.

Roman caught Margaret staring and nodded by way of greeting. In due time, he would catch up with Margaret Colegui. He glanced once back at his oldest friend. Something in Juliano had changed with the death of the girl. He no longer belonged to Solomon completely, Roman understood. _I should have let you go a long time ago, old friend._

Next to him, Sienna sniffled and he passed her a tissue. _Jesus H. Christ, Maria, why did you have to die? We were supposed to live forever! Rule Solomon! _She lifted her gaze to the various Hunters standing at the perimeter. Even from the distance between them she could make out Colin – he was the only one who looked at the pyre instead of Roman.

Henri shivered as the winds picked up. The cold didn't bother him, but the enormity of the occasion did. He watched them all, these people who were players in a game. The Colegui priest, the Sena matriarch, Margaret of the knowing eyes, Hiro Toudou – ah even Hiro had a place in this game. And of course, the heart of Solomon itself, the Lucas Family. He had always desired an exciting life, but he never thought that the death of a good friend would be involved. He frowned. His pain was nothing compared to the men Maria had loved._ That is why I always stayed away from the beautiful ones._

Nicholas Lucas, age three, buried his head in his mother's hair. Andrea smoothed his dark blonde hair with one hand as she stood next to her husband, both of them looking to the pyre. Nudging him with her shoulder she managed, "I'm sorry."

She did not elaborate on what she was sorry for. They had loved each other for too long to play any kind of games.

Carlo continued to stare forward, not daring to answer. Earlier as he had Walked to the field he had finally seen Maria's ghost. She had smiled, oddly enough, and spoken only once before disappearing. He did not expect to ever see her ghost again.

But he knew the words would haunt him forever, _"Carlo, she is in all your hands now."_

Ysabelle and Margaret came closer to the pyre, the heat emanating from the older woman in waves. Margaret brushed her mother's white hair from her face, and placed a kiss on her cheek. "Let it be done, Mother."

Ysabelle agreed. She walked up the wooden ladder, until she stood right above Maria's head. They let her long blonde hair free, framing her beautiful face and falling over both shoulders. It was Margaret who had chosen the simple sleeveless white dress, her favorite – _she will feel no more cold, nor heat, nor pain –_ but it was Ysabelle who had placed the long lace shroud over her body.

Standing for the final time, over her daughter she promised silently, _God and Goddess be damned. You have taken too much from me. Too much I will no longer allow this without exacting my own price._

Margaret came up another ladder, the setting sun forming a halo around her. Leaning her face forward she placed a kiss on her sister's cheek, her lips over the shroud, "Robin will never want for anything, Maria. Ever."

With shaking hands, Ysabelle folded the shroud, letting the final rays of the sun touch her daughter and following the sun-kiss with her own., "Even fire will not burn you away from my heart, sweet child."

Gingerly, mother and daughter made their way down the ladders until they were again on firm ground. Ysabelle faltered in her step, and Maria was there to catch her. When Ysabelle turned one last time to look up at her daughter's final resting place she touched her hand to wood, and the flames came. Her _Craft_.

It burned slowly, as all of Ysabelle's fires did. Then she felt another movement, another person putting power to her flames. Amara Lucas, dragged the flame from the pyre and created a pentagram in the ground. _My deepest regrets to you and yours_, a voice whispered in her head as the flames became ten feet high.

Only one other person there had that kind of power. Over the fire, Roman Lucas' eyes danced with his own Craft as he met Ysabelle's gaze head on. Maria had always put much worth in Roman's approval. And today, because of that respect, Ysabelle was willing to hold truce with the man responsible for the deeds of the Solomon Organization.

But they both understood it would last for only so long.


	2. Chapt 01

Family Reunion

_Ten years later…_

Ysabelle Sena celebrated the death of her daughter and the birth of her granddaughter the same way she always did. As the sun began its early descent, she began preparing her meal – Maria's favorite hearty stew. She left her kitchen door open and lit all the candles in the room, believing it harkened back to a simpler time. Of course, the humming of the refrigerator and the blinking light on the microwave tended to bring her back into the twenty first century – but that was only when she dared to look at either. Otherwise, she kept her back to both appliances, sitting instead at the kitchen island and waited.

In the beginning Juliano had joined her, bringing Robin with him. They would hold a simple celebration, eating dinner and drinking wine, all the while enjoying the company of their shared grandchild, and remembering Maria in their own way. In the back of their minds - and Ysabelle's psychic power was just strong enough that she knew that Juliano thought the same thoughts - they wondered how their world would have been different if Maria had been alive.

One could go mad from wondering the infinite what-could-have-been, and so Ysabelle wove a single thread in her mind, where Maria had not died and she and Robin had lived happily ever after.

At Robin's first birthday, the three had sat around the table, Juliano and Ysabelle not speaking much other than to talk about the three holiest of holies: politics, the church, and soccer. Robin had sat in her highchair, her green eyes looking at Ysabelle with quiet calm. She was the exact replica of Maria at the same age, even though Ysabelle constantly looked for any signs of Asian ancestry.

But other than looks, she was not anything like her mother, her voice soft and she never fit to tantrums… ah, Maria had been a child of extremes, going from hellcat to angel in a blink of an eye while Robin was steadier, her demeanor constantly peaceful.

That first year, Ysabelle had looked at her then and said to Juliano, "She is as serious as her father, I suppose."

Juliano had grunted, not wanting to discuss the man. A few weeks after Maria's death, Hiroshi Toudou had disappeared from the face of the earth. He knew little about the assassination, other than that Roman had asked someone outside of the main group of Hunters to do it. Juliano had his guesses – and they were all but confirmed when Margaret's had accepted a high ranking position at Solomon, assistant to the Director of the Rome branch.

Though he had never thought Margaret capable of killing someone without a Craft.

A few years later, when she was almost four, Robin had shown signs of the Craft. Ysabelle had been proud, fire in the Sena family ran true. She had also understood when Juliano had informed her that Sienna Lucas would be training Robin in her Craft. Sienna was the most powerful of the fire elementals in the world and Ysabelle had always doted on Roman's girl, no matter what she felt about him.

But Ysabelle had still been shocked when Juliano had not brought Robin that Christmas. Even if Juliano had moved hundreds of miles away, Ysabelle had never asked for more than the few days at the end of the year.

He had refused to answer her letters and in the end Ysabelle knew better than to fight against the wall he constructed. Especially since part of her knew it was Roman acting through his most efficient weapon, Juliano Colegui. They had old scores to settle, after all.

The year Robin turned seven, Roman died in his sleep. Ysabelle's intuition told her that someone had finally struck at the heart of the organization, wanting to test if it could survive the death of such a powerful patriarch, but she had no proof and nor desire to find out if Roman's demise was natural or not. She was just glad that he was gone.

It was Roman's oldest son, Carlo, who had risen above the ranks, surprising everyone in the community. It had shocked Ysabelle, since Sienna was the most powerful of Roman's children and the one who rightfully deserved the position.

Another setback meant a little more waiting for those that had opposed Roman's ascension in the first place almost twenty five years earlier. Arianne Lucas, strong-willed matriarch had always had too soft a spot for her oldest child. Where Jane, her second child should have led, Arianne by will alone pushed Roman as her successor.

Even Ysabelle had not argued with her mentor, but when Arianne had died, she had retreated as had many of the old guard. Roman kept an eye on them, fearing that they would somehow stage a coup. He had been a fool, to think that these witches would not look towards the future generation for their answer. Arianne's blood ran in Sienna, it was answer enough.

Except Carlo –Carlo with his beautiful smile – had a little more of his grandmother's steel than any of them suspected. Head of Solomon Security in the Americas, he had used that as his selling point. _They will not follow her. I guarantee it. _

Of course Ysabelle had heard this all from Patrcio, one of the few friends she had remaining on the Grand Counsel. So Carlo had risen, and Sienna bided her time. For Ysabelle, her small world remained the same, even if the world outside her changed.

Margaret had taken Juliano's place as her winter solstice companion by then. Mother and daughter would sit around the kitchen, not much said between them either. In the beginning Margaret's position in Solomon did not sit well with Ysabelle – Roman was still dangerous and she didn't want her only child so close to his striking range, but she understood the fascination the organization held. Had Roman not ruled, Ysabelle was positive she would still be sitting on the Grand Counsel. When Roman died, Carlo seemed to lead in the same way, with steel instead of instinct, with the ways of a businessman instead of the ways of a witch; the needs of Solomon International superceding the needs of the Grand Counsel.

Yet Margaret's position was secure, and Carlo held none of the old grudges. So the rift between mother and daughter was, if anything, slight. Truth be told, Ysabelle was very proud of Margaret.

So it was this night, a decade since her daughter had died and her granddaughter born, that Ysabelle waited for Margaret. Though her thoughts, as on every winter solstice, turned to Robin.

_I can't believe my little girl is ten tonight. Maria, if you could only see her now. Goddess, if only I could see her now,_ Ysabelle thought as she lifted the lid over her stew. She had always been a good cook one able to appreciate her own meals, _maybe a little much,_ Ysabelle thought as she noticed her dress was fitting a little snug. But the New Year was days away, she had time to make resolutions.

A rustling by the door and Ysabelle turned her head quickly expecting to see her daughter and maybe her grandsons. Jakob was nine this year and Martin six. Ysabelle did not have much experience with boy children, but they made her smile just the same.

She had not expected the young woman who stood half inside her kitchen. She wore a long hooded coat, the color of crimson, her profile peeking out of the dark folds.

"Sienna?" Ysabelle wiped her hands on her apron, moving forward to greet the young woman who had been Maria's best friend.

"Hello, Ysabelle. Blessings to you on this longest night," Sienna offered. "May I join you?"

Ysabelle furrowed her brows, wondering if some fool at Solomon had finally gotten it into his head that Ysabelle Sena, the herbal healer, the midwife, the witch, had become dangerous enough to be hunted.

The thought fell away, as Sienna removed her coat, her face sparkling with a ghost of her grandmother's smile. Arianne's granddaughter was what they all fought for, the continuation of an ancient line, ancient Crafts.

"I bring a peace offering," Sienna added, and stepped into the room, motioning with her hands.

A group of youngsters followed. Two girls and two boys of varying heights, but it was the one girl who moved to the front of the group, dressed simply in a green knit poncho over denim jeans, who caught Ysabelle's eyes. She was tall, lanky, her dark blonde hair caught in unusual… pigtails Ysbabelle supposed, though how she got them stiff enough to stick out of her head baffled the older woman. The face though was unmistakable – it was as if Maria were ten again.

"Happy Birthday, Robin," Ysabelle said her heart lurching as she got a good look at her granddaughter for the first time in six years.

A flicker of recognition crossed her face and she nodded as she stepped forward, "Thank you, Grandmother, though it's not for a few more hours."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Ysabelle said as they stood a few inches apart. Ysabelle knew better than to smother the girl with kisses – they were strangers in a way after all.

"I know I should have called, Ysabelle… but we wanted it to be a surprise…" Sienna continued and when Ysabelle looked up she had a man standing next to her. Even if she had not known him, there was no mistaking what he was. Hunter. Dressed in casual black pants and a matching turtleneck sweater, his eyes gave the room the once over. It had not changed since he had last stepped foot here over ten years ago.

But of course Ysabelle knew him. Juliano's protégé, Colin Richards, and another good friend of Maria's. They had all been friends then: Margaret, Maria, Colin, and Sienna. Though she could see that the childhood crush between the two had made way for something much more.

"So you are her Consort, then?" The three children looked at each other, a secret word no one was supposed to say – not in front of Robin, Ysabelle guessed – but Sienna's smile put them at ease and they tentatively began taking chairs around the island. Robin seemed not to notice and moved to stand closer to Ysabelle as she headed back towards the stove. "Do you like stew, my child?"

"Yes, Grandmother," she answered and when Ysabelle went to stir the girl interrupted putting her hand over Ysabelle's, "Can I help? Please?"

They were family after all, Ysabelle thought as the lump formed in her throat. Robin squeezed her hand and Ysabelle nodded, finally putting a kiss on the girl's forehead.

"Of course. Watch it and stir while I get the salad out."

Sienna moved forward then, "Let me help, Ysabelle. We are the ones intruding on you… I hope that you have enough food?"

Ysabelle took measure of the boys only. They were thin, which meant they were probably voracious eaters who spent all their calories on sports and the like. It was that way with Jakob and Martin. "I always cook for an army during the winter solstice, Sienna… It is a habit I have been unable to break."

"Boys, Shaelyn," Colin called and the three slid off their seats. "Ask the Mistress here if she needs additional help."

"No, no. Have a seat. Though, if someone would grab the antipasto plate in the fridge, they can munch on that until dinner's ready – ten minutes… There's also bread on the counter behind you, Colin, if you could bring that to the table?"

Colin obeyed as if he were still a teenager himself instead of almost thirty.

And, yes," Sienna whispered as she helped prepare the salad, "he is my Consort."

"These children seemed versed in the ways of the Lucas clan… and that one there has the look of his father if I'm not mistaken."

The taller of the two boys turned, hearing the comment, and blushed before standing to keep busy while the other two children immediately began picking at the olives and nuts on the platter he set before them.

"Your eyes are never mistaken, Ysabelle. That is of course, Nicholas… Carlo's son. The two others are twins, Shaelyn and Jason Edwards –"

"Your mother is Jessica Lucas then?" Ysabelle asked the girl. Though the twins were both brunettes while most of the Lucas clan was blessed with all shades of blonde, there was the look of Roman's youngest sister in them. They bred true, the Lucas clan, with their blue eyes.

"Yes, grandmother," The girl answered… "Can we call you grandmother? Since Robin does?"

"I would be honored… You've all been touched by Arianne," Ysabelle noted, invoking Sienna's grandmother's name. The aristocratic shape of the eyes and nose were completely inherited from Arianne. She missed the old woman dearly.

The sounds of the kitchen stopped as if marking a moment of silence for the woman who had set in motion the new age of Solomon.

"Margaret asked that I come and bring Robin… I would have brought her sooner, but power is not quickly gathered in Solomon," Sienna apologized a short while later. "And it took a while to collect enough courage to go behind Father Juliano's back."

"Even for one such as yourself?" Ysabelle asked, but her tone was teasing. She was reminded of two young girls, silly with youth, but also wrought with ambition. Even as a young teenager, Sienna had planned that she would be Chairman of Solomon after her father, and Maria would rule at her side. Margaret, Sienna had decided, was too anti-establishment and kept creating liaison titles for her.

None of them had looked too hard in the future.

"Yes, we all had to start in the proverbial mailroom, didn't we? Even Nicholas spent last week being a messenger boy in Rome."

"I had a Mercedes escort," Nicholas replied sardonically as he found the plates in a cupboard and brought them to the table. He shook his head, "I wish I had anonymity."

"They will let you test your wings, eventually," Ysabelle promised, "and you will someday wish that you were this young again. Don't chase after adulthood and responsibility too quickly, Nicholas Lucas. It will find you soon enough."

"I guess I'm not complaining too much. Shaelyn and Robin had to sit in on a meeting with Father and His Holy Eminence last week."

So they were training Robin in the ways of Solomon. Perhaps she would escape the fate of Hunter, though Ysabelle doubted it. It was what she had done in her early days even after Arianne had pulled her into the secrets workings of the Organization.

"What is your power, child?" Ysabelle asked the other young girl as she brought the silverware out.

"I can make anyone stronger," Shae answered proudly. The Lucas Crafts ran true, generations later.

"And you boys? Did the unpower run true in you?" Ysabelle asked, naming another of their Craft.

They nodded. The ability to stop Craft use was one of the greatest of the Lucas gifts and only passed to males in the line. Henri Lucas had inherited the power of complete control – a Craft thought lost to them. He could activate the Craft in a Seed or take a Witch and remove the Craft for short periods. A confirmed bachelor, Ysabelle wondered if that dual power would again be dormant if he did not have children.

"Grandmother, the stew is ready," Robin spoke and both Sienna and Ysabelle made their way to the stove to taste it one last time. Both gave their approval in short order and Robin began opening cupboards looking for the bowls.

"We should wait a few more minutes," Sienna said though a few seconds later a group of four entered the small kitchen.

"Mother!" Margaret entered in her usual flamboyant style flinging back her hood to reveal her vivid blue eyes. She opened her arms and pressed a kiss on the two children at the end of the table, before moving to Robin, Sienna, and then finally Ysabelle. "We're all here, Mother…Rupert and the boys too."

Ysabelle exchanged kisses with her son-in-law, Rupert Lang. He was a burly man, towering over the entire group except for Colin, though he probably outweighed Colin by an easy forty pounds. Giving her a hug, he said, "Merry Christmas."

"Thank you, Rupert," though her eyes twinkled. They believed in older gods.

"We brought food, and don't worry as I had it prepared by our cook. There is no way I allowed Margaret into the kitchen, Ysabelle."

They laughed and even Margaret gave in good naturedly. The boys set the food on the stove and then went through their grandmother's kitchen with the ease of two who felt at home. Jakob transferred the chicken into a big platter, while his young brother managed to get most of the pasta into another dish. Behind them, Rupert reached for both plates and brought them over to the table.

Ysabelle, from the corner of her eyes, watched as Jakob maneuvered around Robin and when they exchanged friendly cheek kisses, a pang touched the deepest recess of her soul… _Juliano has allowed them contact. He has refused me, but let my grandchildren get to know each other… Old man, I do not know whether to hate you for the slight or forgive you letting them know they are family._

She shook all thoughts of Juliano aside and called them all to dinner. "Robin, would you like to pray?"

Robin nodded, it was a role she was delegated to often when Juliano was not in residence. She made her way to the head of the table, standing between Sienna and Ysabelle. Reaching for her grandmother's hand, warm to the touch, and Sienna's, she started, "Please, bow your heads."

* * *

"Thank you, my child," Ysabelle said to Sienna as the women sat gathered around the great fire in the living room. "To both of you. Margaret for thinking of me, and to you Sienna for bringing Robin… Thank you very much." 

The women exchanged glances. The men sat with their backs against the stairwell comfortable as they shared a bottle of fifty year old port. The children had fallen asleep hours ago, piling blankets atop three sleeping mats. Robin and Shaelyn had moved to one end, their heads close together as if they had fallen asleep between whispering secrets. Shaelyn's back was propped against her twin's and the other boys were scattered after him. Someone snored, punctuating the even breathing of the other children, every so often and that brought a smile to Ysabelle's lips.

Ysabelle was content. But she was also no fool. Letting the silence linger for a few moments longer, she could feel the anticipation growing between both the younger women. Colin and Rupert were deep in their cups, not caring on where the night would lead, though Ysabelle figured both were probably aware of what the situation was. She was the only innocent adult in the room, and it felt good to be oblivious, if only for a second.

Ysabelle regarded the two women occupying the recliners – Margaret had insisted on updating her mother's furniture – both seemed ageless in the firelight.

A natural blonde, Margaret had taken to dying her hair an almost copper color, which offset the freckles at the bridge of her nose. She was shorter than Sienna, but exuded an equal amount of confidence.

Sienna's hair was so blonde it almost white. She wore it impishly short, though had worn it in long curls when Maria had been alive. She had inherited Arianne's eyes and Ysabelle had noted Nicholas' shared them as well, the blue-gray of a gathering storm.

It was these same eyes – an echo of the past – that Ysabelle found staring at her when she finally looked away from the flames, "So tell me then, Arianne's progeny, Roman's child… what is it that you require of me?"

Sienna paused, looking for the right words. Tonight she was laying more of her groundwork towards a future she wanted to see in her lifetime, "A confirmation, Matriarch."

Ysabelle frowned. She had not heard the title used in decades, and the last time it had been said to her own grandmother dead over half a century. She supposed that she was Matriarch of the Sena line. Not such a sad little line with Margaret in full power and the boys showing signs of older Craft, Jakob had a touch of the earth elemental like his mother, Martin had the showings of a full blown psychic, and of course Robin's Craft had manifested very early.

"Yes, child?"

"There is a rumor that an ageless one lives in Tokyo, Japan at the heart of a walled city. She moved there, it is said, after the second Great War and was ancient even then."

Ysabelle heart stopped. _Abigail. They are talking about Abigail. _

"What was her name, Matriarch?"

"Abigail. Abigail Walters."

"A Salem witch."

"No, child… _The _Salem witch. The priestess of the Salem Coven itself, though it was a traditional coven without blood ties – except for Abigail and her sister."

"Jane," Sienna replied. In her head, she could hear the words spoken by Patricio only weeks before… _Jane Walters begat Arianne, two hundred years after the last of the coven had fell, and Arianne entering her second century begat Roman, Jane, Alison, and Jessica. _

It was from this line of witches – for she had no qualms about what she was, none of the founding families did – that Sienna could trace her direct ancestry to the Salem witches. The witches who were the founders of Solomon itself. Not the innocents who had died by fire, water, and mob… no, the true witches, most of whom had survived and who with their children had found sanctuary in New York.

The story was one only the direct descendents of those fifteen families and their most trusted were privy to. Even Juliano, as high ranking as he was, did not know the true origins of Solomon International. Roman had seen the fear of God in Juliano's eyes and had kept the truth from his dearest friend.

From New York, some of them had taken flight to start their Covens around the world. But it was in New York that those fifteen families had laid the foundation for Solomon, christened after the great biblical king's who knew the names of all demons released into the world.

The founding families created the Grand Counsel to continue the Salem witches' original pursuit: to protect their future. Solomon International was used to effect that goal and also carry out their second pursuit: destroy those that stood in their way.

The first Chairman of Solomon International, and by extension, Chairman of the Grand Counsel had been Jane Walters. She had ruled for almost two centuries before the torched was passed to Arianne, then Roman, and finally Carlo.

Three hundred twenty years later after the last witch burned in America, Solomon had almost accomplished both its goal in the United States and in most European countries.

But in a few places Roman had made some concessions. In Italy, France, and the Iberian Peninsula, they had allowed the Church too much interference and many of the branches were run with almost religious zeal by Priests and Nuns whose first loyalty was to the Holy See.

In these countries, it was a sect within the Church that decided which witches were to live or die, and in many instances some of the souls had never been asked if they would prefer to live in a structured coven. It had been the same sect that had run the Spanish Inquisition.

Yet even these countries were light years ahead of Japan when it came to the treatment of witches. A tenuous truce existed between Solomon and the Church. The latter ignored the existence of covens in the former, but they understood on some level that covens did exist.

In Japan no coven existed. The Methuselah had vowed it so.

"She is my great aunt, the one they call Methuselah?" Sienna inquired. _Proof if you require it. Ask the Sena Matriarch who I am. And we shall agree on a plan of action perhaps. _

"Yes. Abigail Walters had defied even the odds of her clan and lived hundreds of years beyond even their extended span."

"Why?" Margaret asked, her arms folded on the arm of the chair as she stared at the fires. "Why has she survived so long?"

"I believe it is because she never had children. Once Jane had Arianne, her life began to slow to a normal pace and she died before Arianne was even fifty. Arianne had children much earlier than her mother… and so we lost her much earlier. But Abigail was always too busy to have children."

"A virgin witch?" Sienna asked.

Ysabelle chuckled, "What witch remains a virgin for very long?"

"Mother," Margaret admonished but did not hide her own smile.

"Now, Sienna, what reason have you to be interested in Abigail? She alone of all the Witches wanted no part in Solomon. She went so far as to have her sister promise her that Solomon would not interfere with Japan."

"There has been a Solomon Branch in Japan for fifty years, Ysabelle," Sienna reminded.

"And who of the Fifteen Families sits in Japan? What great witch in Japan has been asked to start a Coven? The answer to both is no one. That is what Abigail cared about. She believes that witches were persecuted when they tried to integrate themselves with mainstream society. She wants none of that for her beloved Japan."

"Do you believe that?" Margaret asked. "Is that why you no longer take part in the Grand Counsel? Because you believe we should live outside the laws of man?"

"You have bought into part of the propaganda, Margaret. There is no outside of man. We are Mankind and Mankind is us. Something in witches broke thousands of years ago and our numbers dwindled. Whether human and witch were separate races before that has not mattered in tens of thousands of years. We interbred and now you cannot separate the one from the other. Human history is recorded in its DNA, our Craft is recorded in our DNA… and I tell you this now, both strands are the same. The genes lie dormant in every human being out there. Every single one."

"Then why continue Solomon?" Margaret asked. "Why not disband?" A challenge from daughter to mother.

"Because as people still believe that the color of your skin matters and agencies exist to erase that myth, so it is the same with Craft. Solomon continues so that humanity does not wipe out its witch blood. I do not believe in the current leadership, but I believe in the organization. Do not mistake the two."

"She understands that – finally," Sienna whispered, "that we are relevant. That Japan is becoming immaterial. She has asked for my help."

"Abigail?" Ysabelle asked. "She has contacted you?"

Sienna nodded. "Abigail would like it to stop complete destruction of the witches in Japan. She has explored the list that the STN-J, the Japanese Branch, holds. They have marked every single person of Craft on that list. It is genocide there, in a way it has not been since the Inquisition or since Salem."

"From what I have heard," Margaret replied, "there is an administrator there who has a new policy to not kill witches. He places them in confinement in some giant jailhouse outside of Tokyo."

"Zaizen," Sienna supplied the name. "He was in Italy a few years ago, when Toudou was here, but he is lying…He says they aren't being killed and the Hunters believe him… but Abigail feels them in pain and dying. They are all dying, slowly she says."

"It is even worse than that," Colin interrupted, walking purposefully to sit in front of the fire place so that the woman sat above him in their respective seats. His words slurred slightly, but he was resolute, "They are even worse than the Church. Here there are Hunters and then there are Witches. There they try to call the "good" witches – what ever that means – Craft Users – as if the two are not the same thing."

"The old guard uses the same terminology here in Italy," Ysabelle said. "It is a word out of favor with the young ones."

"No, it is not," Sienna answered. "We met Juliano's newest protégé and he has differentiated in his head Hunters, Seeds, and Witches. He sees them as separate people. A Seed can be a Hunter, a Seed can become a witch. A Seed is not just a dormant witch, a Hunter is not just a witch who works for Solomon International… a witch has no place in his world."

Margaret had read the report on him, "His power lies dormant, does it not, the man you speak of. What was his name again?"

"Amon Nagira," Sienna replied knowing it would illicit a response from Ysabelle. She and Colin had become well acquainted with the young hunter, and though he was far too serious, they took a liking to him. He was exceptionally committed, as if he were cut from the same cloth as Juliano.

"Nagira? Surely not… not Keisuke's son?" Ysabelle asked, her eyes alit with fire.

Yes."

"And so it comes full circle to your own great ancestor, Sienna… Keisuke was always Abigail's creature. It must hurt him greatly, to know that his own son rejects his heritage."

"I didn't ask – the last time we tried to kill each other," Colin replied, his mouth twisting. "Though it was nearly seven years ago since I last tried. Juliano might hold a better answer, as he clashed with the man a few years ago."

"I tell you this now, Sienna, for your own good. If you are to make good with Abigail, Solomon must stop hunting Keisuke Nagira. The witches of Japan follow Abigail because they fear her… they will follow Keisuke because they love him."

She agreed, "That has already been explained to me… I am working on it."

Ysabelle felt every single one of her years all of a sudden. If Abigail was relenting, and beginning the negotiations with Solomon International through Sienna, then indeed life was about to change for all of them. She also felt a renewed vigor. They had the future in their grasp.

"We must not lose momentum," She murmured. "Otherwise we are lost. If Abigail recognizes that this is our future, the Covens and Solomon working in concert, then we cannot rest until it is accomplished."

Both girls nodded, but it was to Sienna that Ysabelle turned finally, "I promised your grandmother that I would follow the Lucas line until it was extinguished from this world. I did not say I would follow all of them. If you have need of me, Sienna Lucas, you need only ask."

"Tonight I needed nothing but confirmation… but I am afraid in the future I will ask more of you, and you Margaret… and Robin."

"Why Robin?" Margaret asked, her fear for her sister's daughter coming to the fore.

"It will be her decision to make," Ysabelle murmured at the same time. _Abigail will look for the pure flame if she still tires of this life_, she thought. One had not exist in Salem when they tried to kill her… _but Robin could be that answer_.

It was better to keep that secret from Margaret, and Ysabelle sent her daughter a reassuring smile.

"Yes, and I am afraid that her first loyalty is to her grandfather and my brother. I am attempting to show her a different way, but I think that you are right, Ysabelle. She will have to make her own choices. We can only hope to temper what her grandfather teaches her. My father's control of Juliano is complete, even from the grave.

"Grandfather thought to deal with Japan much later, maybe after Abigail's death… but I fear that Carlo is less patient. He feels that if we can wipe out all the witches in Japan, and just start putting our own people there and control it through some orchestrated intermarrying, then he is being efficient… he has no need of the witches in Japan."

"His mother-" Margaret argued.

"Aiko is much diminished since Roman's death and spends all her time on the family compound. My mother has tried to protect her, but I do not think that Aiko will last much longer."

Aiko had always been the most unusual woman. Educated in America, her exotic beauty and intelligence had immediately made an impact on Roman Lucas and he had married her within six months of meeting her. Two sons later, she decided that she was done with marriage and requested a divorce. She had even picked her successor, Amara, Sienna's mother.

And now she was dying from grief? Guilt perhaps? Part of Ysabelle had always wondered if Aiko had been Abigail's creature as well.

"So Aiko is not able to influence her son in this?"

Sienna shook her head. "And though my aunt Jane is still the family matriarch, she tires of the game, and looks to me as her successor…"

"So you will be Coven priestess, Lucas matriarch, and eventual head of Solomon International? Your ambition knows no bounds, Sienna," Ysabelle said fondly.

"I do it all for them in the end," Sienna answered motioning back to the children sleeping in the safe little world they lived in.

* * *

It was a restless Sienna who woke first. She had fallen asleep on the comfortable recliner, and Colin had spread himself before the fireplace, his back towards the warmth of the fading embers, his face somehow tilted towards her – protecting her even in sleep. 

Across from her Margaret had abandoned her seat, but her husband still kept his vigil at the staircase, sleeping upright, the steel of his gun shining at his thigh holster. Even past their days as Hunters, Consorts kept their watch over coven priestesses.

Sienna wondered then if Ysabelle knew the truth of Margaret's position at Solomon. Assistant to the Rome Director was just a convenient cover to explain her presence in Rome. Margaret had, in the vernacular of the Grand Counsel, ascended. Her power had been tested and she had been found worthy to lead one of the Italian Covens, replacing an old friend of Roman's.

_Silly, of course_, Sienna thought, as she stood from the chair. _Patricio tells Margaret everything. Of course she knows. _

Ysabelle had retired to her own room – the recliner deserted as well – and Sienna reached for the shawl thrown casually over it, wrapping it instead over her shoulders. She walked past the kitchen, and out the door, not bothering to put any shoes on. Fire was hers to command after all. It did not take much to take the dewy grass behind her, thinking of flame, but ending the thought just short of actual fire. She walked this way, around the house until she found a familiar spot in the garden, a wood swing that Maria and she had sat in for hours a day…

_Maria, Maria, I miss you so,_ she thought as she took the seat, warming it as she did. The sun was barely rising and Sienna knew that it was less than half an hour before Ysabelle woke to start her day.

They were going to leave after an early dinner, then stop in Rome for a day with Carlo and Andrea before Robin was scheduled to leave to spend Christmas proper with Juliano.

_They grow so fast. You would be so proud of her, Maria. Smarter than a whip, this one. _

She sighed, chasing away the memory of a woman who had been a sister to her. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, as she had expected the call.

"Hello?"

"Did you get your answer?" The voice was a grandmother's voice, long forgotten. Arianne had spoken with the same raspy whisper, making Sienna strain to listen, though she had heard the woman in Counsel enough – Arianne's voice commanded when she wanted it to, but with her grandchild, she had shown her weakness, her love.

_So many have passed on with only dreams of what our future holds… will I live to see the dream fulfilled? _"I did… Abigail."

"Good. Very good. Now listen carefully, Sienna Lucas, you must wait for my signal that Japan is ready for its coven."

"The signal?"

"My death, little daughter. As we discussed, send the fire child to me. She is the pure flame I am looking for. And when I am dead, you shall have your Edo Coven."


	3. Chapt 02

**A Signal**

"_My death, little daughter. Send the fire child to me. She is the pure flame I am looking for. And when I am dead, you shall have your Edo Coven."_

A signal over five years in the making. Five years, she thought, too soon. _I am not ready._

Sienna Lucas held the paper in her hand, the three words staring at her. _Methuselah is dead._

From the corner reading the New York Times, Colin Richards, head of Hunter Operations in the Americas, frowned as he glanced in her direction. He stood, rounding the desk and went to stand above her, "Sienna, what is it? You look like you've seen a ghost."

She handed him the slip of paper wordlessly.

Quickly reading he swore under his breath, crumpling it in his hand. Sienna's storm-blue eyes flashed for a second and then the paper was ash. She had been waiting for it since Robin Sena had left for Italy a few months ago, but thought it years down the road… not months.

_Craft is taught in absolutes, little daughter, but it should be learned in steps. You understand this better than the fire-child._ That had been one of their last conversations, months ago. _The Arcanum of the Craft is not held in a single instrument as those in the Church believe. It helps for those who do not understand what they are learning, but you know the lesson, you do not need the staff to help you. You understand, I see it in your eyes. Flame is heat, it is fire, it is ash. You understand heat. You understand fire. Why do you not understand ash?_

It had taken her months to be able to do it. She burned countless pieces of paper in her quest; but one late night, more asleep than awake she had glanced at a piece of paper, running through the cold hard science of fire. The combination of elements, the consumption of what was burning… and in her head something had clicked. She skipped the burn, and the papers on her desk had become ash.

All of the papers - which had made her assistant glare at her the next morning because some of the items had been handwritten requests from Carlo himself Sienna had tried to appear contrite, but she had been too ecstatic to succeed, only making peace with her assistant after she promised to call Carlo herself.

It was those tasks, mostly administrative, but a few more interesting, that had kept Sienna from calling Abigail. She had just cleared her schedule and had been waiting for an appropriate time to contact Abigail with the new that she had mastered ash, and in so doing finally understood what Craft was. But then the note had come.

It was not soon after that the shit hit the fan.

_And that which hits the fan is not always equally distribute,_ was a phrase her father had been fond of.

Roman had known the truth of the universe, Sienna decided as she watched chaos unfold. The news of Abigail's death had caused a giant ripple in Solomon's inner circles. The Grand Counsel whispered wondering what it all meant. Only Patricio, oldest witch now, cautiously guarded his reaction, while the rest of the Council salivating at the thought of Japan finally free of the powerful witch's grasp. The officers of the Corporation drew up plan after plan and ran simulations on the best way to infiltrate Japan – as the STN-J was not to be completely trusted – Carlo activating old family contacts, trusting only Henri with all the details. For Sienna he had other tasks.

Sienna bided her time, planning her next move with extreme caution. It seemed that the entire witch community in Japan was also thrown into a spin, Methuselah had not left instruction with her people… and Sienna guessed that none of them had even known her desire to die. It was a delicate situation, rebuilding ties with people who did not trust Solomon.

Yet, with all of that it had been Carlo's first move had her throwing fits in her private office. He had sent in a recon group to the STN-J Branch and retrieved their hard drives, what he believed the quickest way to get all the information he needed. He wanted more information about orbo, about Zaizen's back dealing, about everything.

But his tactics had an unforeseen effect, Robin had disappeared into hiding.

_Protect her as best you can. She needs to know that love is not always a harsh thing, I have tried to show her this, but Juliano has made her believe that love is about debt. She is constantly trying to prove her worth to that man, and I fear that it will drive her inside of herself,_ Ysabelle had said the last time they had seen each other, placing Robin's safety into Sienna's hands. She was doing a terrible job and feared that Ysabelle was fuming in the afterlife.

Sienna hated thinking of the dead. They were piling around her, the bodies of the women in her life. First Maria who had been like a sister to her, twelve years later Aiko Lucas who had been so much more than step-mother, last summer Ysabelle who had been the last link to the old ways of Solomon, and now the Methuselah of Japan a late coming mentor.

Then there was Roman himself. Dead longer than she could believe, she thought of Roman often… and she still grieved. Or more correctly, she grieved anew. Patricio and Colin had brought her evidence of who had killed her father. And she grieved when the name was given. But that was a longer term goal, avenging her father and so she looked for her own sign, to move forward.

It came a week later when news reached her Juliano Colegui had summoned Amon Nagira to Italy. The one person who could possibly find Robin was unexpectedly within her grasp.

* * *

_Rome_

"Will you do it then?" Sienna asked as Amon exited Juliano's private study, closing the door behind him. "Execute a fifteen year old girl?"

He had half expected her, Roman's daughter. She sat in one of the dark leather chairs right outside the doorway, dressed in a beautiful blue suit that made her eyes more blue than gray. With her boyishly short hair, and the light smattering of makeup she wore, she looked like a carefree young woman – but he had known her long enough. The image was meant to put him at ease, so that she would retain the upper hand. It did not work.

"Most craft-users would have the decency to pretend they couldn't read minds," Amon said sardonically, taking the hand she offered and squeezing it in greeting. They spoke in English, and his was the perfect diction of one who had two first languages.

Sienna pursed her lips as she took her hand back. Amon was so old fashioned. Craft-User. Witch. He did not think them interchangeable. Though sometimes she herself felt like neither fit. Using Craft was like using air – one just did it. At the same time, she felt there was nothing magical with what she was. To her mother's regret, she only had a rudimentary knowledge of spell-casting. It was disconcerting, Amara had remarked, that the High Priestess of the Lucas Coven didn't even know simple spells. Sienna had replied that Jane Morrow, Roman's sister, thought her worthy and that was enough.

Instead of getting into another argument with Amon she answered, "If people hide who they are it just creates problems later on. You will one day learn this."

"You speak as if you have the wisdom of the ages. You're not much older than I am," he replied as he started down the open walkway of the second floor. It overlooked the inner courtyard, lending a rustic feeling to the house.

Standing and following closely at his heels, Sienna wondered if he would ever understand that in a way she was keeper of an ancient truth, "Age is relative. Your new partner, for example… even as a child, Robin was always far too serious."

He slowed his pace, letting her catch up. Though Sienna had long strides, she walked almost casually, another attempt to make people believe she was not as shrewd as she was. "Did you know much of her then? More than Juliano who raised and trained her and now sees her as a problem to be eliminated?"

Sienna, had she been anyone else, would have snorted. Juliano had raised Robin, but never really understood her. Sienna, more foster mother and friend, understood Robin better than the old priest ever would.

Yet Amon remained ignorant about her relationship with Robin. Juliano had always been prickled by Roman's command that she train Robin in craft. In some way Juliano had never forgiven either of them that… what would he have said if he knew that she had allowed Robin visits with Ysabelle?

"Juliano has a Hunter's mentality. He has never seen the big picture. No, I do not know her very well other than the profile that has been circulating. I remember a shy, serious girl who followed Juliano wherever he went. She did not appear to be any type of threat." Lies on so many levels, Sienna thought as she followed him.

"Neither do baby vipers," Amon answered.

She rolled her eyes as she looked over the railing and down at the courtyard. Servants were running from one end to the other, laden with all manners of food. She could make out some of the words and heard them speak of the sinful American couple the moody Japanese man. She wondered if Amon's Italian had improved much. It made her smile and she turned her head to catch him glaring at her.

She gave him a matching glare, but laughed in the end of it, "Don't worry. I didn't read your mind, Amon… I made an educated guess. Everyone knows that Juliano has been very upset his little spy is missing, and he is one who always cuts his losses. Did Juliano give a reasonable explanation as to why she should be hunted?"

"It seems she retrieved something in the Walled City," he searched her face, but she just nodded for him to continue. He had come to realize early on that Sienna Lucas was probably the most informed woman in all of Solomon. And if he shared with her, she would share with him. "From the Methuselah. Whatever it is has made Robin a very dangerous person, the most dangerous of witches to ever walk the planet, Father Juliano fears."

"Since he has not informed Carlo of the fact, I highly doubt it… It is interesting that Robin found that old witch – considering she has been laying low for the past hundred or so years. Do you know what she retrieved?"

"No and Father Juliano did not volunteer the information," he answered in all honesty.

"I have heard some rumors… Church secrets," Sienna supplied, as they came to the staircase. "An ancient artifact that helps with the Craft."

He started to walk down, but paused on the landing. She remained on the second level, some movement at the other end catching her eye.

"Help with the Craft? Robin needs all the help she can get," he answered lightly and just as suddenly clamped his mouth shut as she bore those blue eyes on him.

She heard it in his voice. Robin had only been there for less than four months and there was something in the way he spoke about her that was… different. His voice had _softened._

_Is he… no. he can't be…_ Sienna refused to even put words to the thought, but she watched him closely. His wore the same resolute mask as always. She cocked her head, waiting for him to say more, but he continued to head down.

"Amon?" She asked as another thought crossed her mind. He glanced up. "If you think she needs help with her Craft, how can you believe Juliano when he says she is the world's most dangerous witch?"

He ignored her and disappeared out of her sight.

She turned to catch Colin, coming out of their guest bedroom, "I am going to need your help with Amon Nagira, it seems."

* * *

It was later that evening that Amon and Colin sat in one of the many large rooms Juliano's residence boasted. Though a man of the cloth, he was also a man of Solomon and the company rewarded talent extremely well. Juliano swore that it was a residence he would when he retired to advance Church purpose when he retired, but that remained to be seen. 

The two men, almost a decade separating them, sat on opposite ends of a small oak table, sharing a bottle of Roman's favorite scotch and playing chess. They had clinked their glasses in memory of the old man, Colin with a "may the old bastard be toasty warm in hell" and Amon with a gentler "may oblivion be the kindest god."

They played with completely different styles: Colin with the sure moves of someone who knew all the rules but cared not much for the game, and Amon with the deliberate moves of one who enjoyed the subtleties of it. It made them unevenly matched, even if it was their second bottle that evening.

"Tell me, Amon, what did Juliano ask?" Colin inquired, placing the pawn into position.

"That I do my duty by Solomon…. Sienna must have told you."

"Sienna gave me a little of the details… Duty, huh? Considering Juliano didn't run any of this through Carlo, I'm surprised he played the duty to Solomon card… maybe he meant duty to him? Or the old man may be getting a bit of the Alzheimer's, you ever think about that?"

Amon's stare was intent on the board, "Juliano is as sane as you and I, Colin."

"Exactly. Now the other question. Could you really do it?" He asked. "Kill the child?"

"All witches must be killed," he replied automatically, but his voice caught.

"Yet, Zaizen has not been following that credo." Colin said it kindly hearing the weariness in his friend's voice, remembering that Amon was innocent in all this. Hell, Amon had been a rookie five years ago when Sienna and Abigail had first laid the plans.

"We can only speculate as to why. The man hates witches," Amon replied and wondered for the hundredth time what game he was caught in. Or perhaps there were games upon games, and now they were intersecting, dragging him – and an unprepared fifteen year old girl – into it. Life was never fair for the rank and file.

If Colin had a gift, it was in reading people – and in rare moments, Amon let his guard down, just a little. It was enough for Colin to ask, "Do you no longer desire to be just a pawn in the game?"

"We are all pawns in this game, Colin. Even the King," Amon said lifting the king of its square and pointing the tip at Colin.

"Carlo." Fittingly on this chess board, the dark pieces were the same cobalt blue as the phoenix on the Lucas family crest.

Amon nodded. "Even Carlo."

"You speak truth, my friend. More than you know."

The door whispered open and both men glanced in its direction. Sienna walked in, barefoot, coming to stand in front of the chess board. She glanced at the pieces seeing the necessary moves Amon needed to make to win… four moves away from checkmate. Colin never had the patience for the game. Putting her hand on her lover's shoulders, she asked innocently, "Who is winning?"

Her eyes met Amon's and his narrowed a fraction. It had been Sienna who had taught him chess after all.

"You never know until the end," Colin answered. But he had never won against Amon.

"So have you decided, Amon, whether you will kill this child? Babes have always been innocent, in church and Solomon, as my father used to say."

He shrugged, "Why is your interest so piqued?"

Before she could answer, Colin asked, "She's what, fifteen? Cute as a button last I remembered. Someone that young could not be as dangerous as you think."

Again something in Sienna sparked. A stray thought, from a man whose control was famed on six continents. Ah, little Robin was getting under his skin. _That's my girl. Even the cold hearted fall under your charm. _

"To answer your question, Amon, I just do not like the idea of hunting a child. Whatever elseyou claim, she is a child… What if I gave you another way out?" Sienna inquired, taking the seat between them. She smoothed the line of her skirt as she did so, keeping her eyes on theboard as Amon moved into position. Three more moves.

Colin pushed his knight two left and three forward. As Amon had anticipated.

"Has Carlo ordered not to hunt her, Sienna, because he is the only one who will stay my hand." Amon's pawn touched the end of the board and he pulled the queen back into play. "Check."

"Do you only take orders from men?" Sienna retorted. "I thought you a more advanced beast than that."

"I only take orders from the leaders of Solomon."

"Of which I am counted, let's be open about that. You know Carlo sees me as his successor. Even in Japan they must know that."

"But Carlo Lucas sits at the head of Solomon," Amon reminded. "Not Sienna Lucas."

He watched Colin move his king to a space on the left. Colin's fingers paused on the top of the chess piece as he regarded the board. He saw the endgame then, shrugging his shoulders, finally releasing the piece into place.

Amon moved his queen again, "Mate."

Sienna preferred games where the opponents were equally matched. Colin and Amon in a simulation would be a fair game, both were perfect hunters. Maybe she would suggest it later on.

"Yes, my brother is still Chairman of this organization… and you still follow meekly behind. If you had even just a little ambition, you could be here – in Europe – or leading your own branch, but you prefer the backwaters of Japan. I am offering you another chance, Amon."

"Again, we are at an impasse. You do not lead Solomon."

"Amon, you're not stupid. If my father had died even five years later, I would have been made Chairman - you know the vote would have been unanimous."

"The Directors only told you that. It is all lip-service until action says otherwise."

"Bastard. You've always been a bastard."

Colin coughed, "Children. Please."

They could have argued all night, such was their friendship, but Amon surprised her when he answered next, "I concur that your brother looks to your counsel above anyone else's. So let's say I am interested, Sienna. What is your proposition?"

His eyes had flickered momentarily before he had spoken, as if he had put the pieces into play and decided the best course of action. She knew better than to take his words as bond – not yet. Amon would work in the best interests of Amon.

"Before you can make a decision, I propose you know the facts… Let say a Hunter in Japan lost her control over eight months ago, and while Solomon was assessing the situation to see who best to send, Juliano acted on his own and sent Robin Sena. Perhaps because she was born on Japanese soil and had some command of the language… perhaps because he felt that Robin was his instrument, and not really Solomon's. Whatever. Now let's say that he has lost track of this hunter-informant, and she now holds something the Church wants. Solomon has some interest in it, but the Arcanum means much less to us than it does to the Holy See.

"Now he no longer knows who his spy is working for. Solomon? Him? So to eliminate that unknown, because we all know how Juliano hates unknowns, he decides it is just better to eliminate the girl.

"And he must do so soon, because Carlo has already expressed his displeasure that Juliano acted without his approval, sending a fifteen year old _child_ to Tokyo. The rest of Solomon is not as backwards as the STN-J seems to be. Normally, we wait for our Hunters to at least reach an age of majority.

"So , when Carlo moves to retrieve some information from the STN-J, Juliano slips in one of the Hunters he has personally trained to retrieve his favorite pupil – sorry, Colin."

"Not necessary, love," Colin said, glancing at the scotch and noticed it was empty. He reached under his chair for the third and last bottle.

Sienna continued, "And because this pupil has always followed his command blindly, Juliano asks him to do the one thing he cannot bear to do. Eliminate the perceived threat. Hunt Robin. For good measure Juliano makes up some excuse that the child has powers the world has never seen and now the girl must be hunted. Yet, we never though the Methuselah enough of a threat to hunt her…"

As if even Solomon would reveal how much it feared the oldest witch.

"So Juliano is hunting a child to hide a mistake?"

"I was just thinking out loud. You have been trained to take all the information and assess the situation. Robin is a fire-elemental, and really she was being saved for more dangerous places-the former Eastern block, or even the Middle East where her wits would be most needed. You know that Headquarters has not put much effort into Japan, why would we have wasted her talents there? Why would we now want to eliminate such a useful Hunter?"

She did not mention that she had been the one to suggest that Robin be sent to Japan. _Who else do we trust, Father Juliano, besides Robin? She is yours explicitly. As is Amon – the two working together will be an efficient combination._ She also left out that Abigail's power had been gathered over four hundred years. If Robin were a threat, it would be best to remove her while she was still young in her power. These she left out and waited to see if Amon would bring them up.

But Amon asked, "And if she is the most powerful witch out there – a danger to the entire world? What then?"

"Even Superman had kryptonite. .. and if she does become as powerful as Juliano fears, she cannot stand against hundreds of Solomon's… craft users," she submitted to his use of the word. _Witches! You idiot, we're all witches every single one of us, including you if you would let that stick out of your ass and accept whatever power follows you!_ She wanted to scream at him, but her face was completely calm.

"You have that many at your disposal?"

"Yes," she replied. "If it came to it, she could count dozens of covens at her disposal, and dozens more that would follow her if she were to wrestle control of the organization from her brother. "Though I must tell you I feel Robin poses little danger to Solomon. You know that we ordered the little recon mission because we wanted information on the hard drives, not because we were after Robin, don't you?"

Let him think that she and Carlo were of one mind on everything.

"I will take your word on it, Sienna. Can you guarantee that this is green-lit?"

She paused for a moment and then nodded… "The Grand Counsel backs this one, Amon. Bring Robin Sena to the United States into Solomon America's care, and you will be able to write any ticket you want." She made a mental note to have Patricio prepare a memo, Amon always liked written proof.

He regarded the pair, two of the few people in the world he considered friends. He would never admit to it, but there was something about Sienna that had made him trust her from the very beginning. "And if I wanted to head Solomon operations in Japan?"

She had misjudged him... "I could deliver Japan."

"How long will you give me - to get Robin into your hands?"

She though then of Carlo's spy in the STN-J, "There is someone there who is working on our behalf."

"Where?"

"In the STN-J, one of your team members."

Amon said a name and she did not deny it. He swore under his breath, he hated surprises as much as his mentor Juliano.

"She will know when we intend to act. Use her as your time guide. Within24 hours after HQ acts against the STN-J, you will receive information on how to get Robin Sena to me."

He nodded, taking his own king and laying on its side.

* * *

_Tokyo, Japan_

From across what had once been the Factory, a lone figure in a dark car pulled out a cell phone and dialed. He had watched the two fleeing the scene, the taller shadow pulling the smaller one forward – as if stopping meant they died. He wished he could give them some heads up, that they had a _friend_ watching. But that would most likely complicate the matter at hand. The little bird had to concentrate on surviving and though he wanted to help, he had explicit orders to interfere only as necessary.

"Hello?" It was the middle of the afternoon where he called, yet she sounded as if she had just awoken.

"Little bird and Shadow have flown the Factory."

"When do you expect to make contact with the Shadow?"

He glanced at his watch, "Not for another eight hours. Are we still going forward with your plan?"

"Yes, yes. Nagira has made arrangements for them to leave the country and they should be in New York within72 hours."

"And further instructions for Amon?"

"Nagira has also procured him a US phone number with a 310 area code. A message awaits him."

"How goes it there?"

There was a pause, and he wished himself there to support her. But they had agreed he was the only one she trusted to take care of things with Robin. He was the only one with the requisite skills to aide them if the need arose.

"It will be done before you get back," She said it calmly, but he knew that it hurt her deeply, what had been transpiring around her and what she had to do to bring everything into balance. She had to think about the organization's future, her grandmother's legacy… a promise made fifteen years ago to Maria.

"I'll be home in a two days."

"I'll be waiting."

* * *

_District of Columbia, United States_

Of Sienna's inner circle, no one was more important than Terri Morrow. Two years older than Sienna, she was also the only one currently able to succeed her. Jane Morrow's daughter had risen through the ranks with the usual Lucas determination and headed a position both Roman and Carlo Lucas had held: Director of East Coast Operations. Had she been anyone else she would have been content answering to the Chairman of Solomon International, but she was a Lucas and knew that she truly answered to the Grand Counsel and the covens they represented.

It was Terri who knew about orbo before anyone else outside of the Factory. Before even the STN-J team had figured it out as they stood in the Factory, seeing the process unfold before their eyes.

It was she who had chosen Yurika Doujima. Carlo had questioned the choice at first, Doujima was only a teenager and he was loathe to use children, but in the end she had proved to be an excellent choice. And it was Doujima who had sent Terri a sample of orbo.

As soon as Dr. Jim Morrow had placed the chemical composition of orbo on the huge digital projector, it had been his daughter Terri who had seen the pattern. Orbo was _life_. Or more appropriately, orbo was death.

Not that she was trained in genetics or biology. No, Terri Morrow had a history degree from Harvard University. Her senior thesis had been on Auschwitz's infamous Dr. Mengele, but in that pursuit she had done some research of her own in the Solomon archives. During the same time period as Mengele, a doctor in the Berlin Branch had theorized that witches' DNA could be used like vaccines. Live strains could perhaps be used to pass power from one witch to another or even to ordinary humans who weren't closely related to known witch lines. He had tried the process on human species first and enough had gone terribly wrong that he had stopped the project entirely.

But even she had been tempted with the possibilities, with no genetics background. Would someone with the means and knowledge be able to duplicate and eventually surpass the research? A hunch had sent her back to the digital archives weeks ago and she had inquired on who had accessed the files within the past twenty years. Of note was Hiroshi Toudou – her father had worked with the man on a project – but more importantly one complete copy had been downloaded by Administrator Zaizen at the STN-J twelve years ago.

Terri had instantly called a meeting with Carlo and Sienna. By then there had been word from Doujima that Amon Nagira and Robin Sena were back on the scene – and Terri, a more powerful psychic than either Carlo or Sienna, had felt that Sienna was not surprised by the information. She had expected it.

Then Terri had dropped the information about orbo… and it was Carlo who had not been shocked. He had known. Not suspected but _known_. He had known that witches were being harvested and allowed it.

Telling Sienna in private a few hours after Carlo dismissed them had been the hardest thing Terri had ever done.

It was enough for Sienna to convene a meeting of the entire Grand Counsel without Carlo's presence. Terri had been asked to participate as a witness to Carlo's trial. It seemed that orbo was only the beginning of Carlo's secrets.

The evidence laid out at the Grand Counsel had been disconcerting to say the least. After Roman's death Carlo had reinstated the Genetic Research Department; slashed the budgets for two-thirds of the branches throughout Asia, Australia, South America, and Africa; focusing the money back into United States.

Money had been diverted to US investments, stocks, and politicians – all for some grand scheme to fortify Solomon US. He had hidden information about branch needs in almost every other part of the world. He had doctored reports, paid Administrators to remain quiet… but none of that had compared with the fact he had allowed Zaizen to create a weapon from the death of innocent witches. Though the Tokyo branch had concentrated on witches who felt themselves above law, the Factory had capriciously hunted witches… including children.

It had been Patricio, oldest of the Counsel that had wondered aloud, _And how soon before the Grand Counsel becomes obsolete for Carlo Lucas? _

Patricio had been using his witches to gather information slowly on Carlo, but it was the last piece – Terri's testimony that had shocked them. In the Grand Counsel, the word of a renowned psychic was more than good enough.

Yet, after all the evidence was laid out, the majority of them had turned their eyes on Sienna and Terri. In an instant, both women's entire careers with Solomon, their positions as _respected _members of Lucas Clan had been forgotten – the fact that they were in Counsel Chambers charging Carlo with these crimes was almost forgotten. He had played a dangerous game for eight years, who was to say whether or not they were in collusion with Carlo.

As she had sat there, in the seat to the left of the Chairman's positions – empty without Carlo's presence – she could feel an invisible noose around her neck, the heat of a flame at her feet, the water in her lungs – some remnant memory of those women who had died in witch hunts throughout the ages. They cried out for vengeance.

He, one of the few of the Lucas line who could still see ghosts, had betrayed the edict of the Fifteen Families. _Protect our future. Destroy those that stand in the way. _He had let innocent witches die. He had allowed someone to stand in their way.

As if a few innocent witches were not being killed in the Catholic branches, Terri had mused, but kept her mouth shut. She had gone from accuser to accused in a manner of moments and was going to do her best to stay off the Counsel's radar.

It was Patricio who had listened without accusing. Patricio who had disagreed with Arianne when she chose Roman over Jane Morrow, Patricio who had refused to attend Roman's ascension party, Patricio who had been the lone vote against Carlo's own ascension. And it was Patricio that day who had passed the final judgment.

Now, days later, as Terri drove away from her DC office she read the text message that appeared on her smartphone. _It begins._

* * *

_Boston _

The lightening was a nice touch, Sienna decided as she climbed the steps of her family's ancestral home a few miles outside of Boston. She paused at the landing and looked outside the tall windows. She had left the main house years ago, and her official residence was one of the cottages on the property.

Amon and Robin were safely on their way to New York, her message to Amon received by now, and she had only one more thing to do.

It had been a strange week, Carlo keeping both her and Henri close to him. Most of the time it was not even official business. The siblings had dinner together, spent late nights in Carlo's office reminiscing about their childhood. She had tried to partition her life, trying to see him as brother instead of tyrant. Instead of killer.

Henri seemed to have an easier time about it, and Sienna had almost wondered if he had known about the orbo. Terri had dispelled her of any doubt, present when Sienna had finally told him the truth of it. He had disappeared for a few days, off to his latest lover, Sienna supposed… but he had returned the other day – his eyes haunted, but committed to Sienna's cause.

She walked up the stairs, stopping at Carlo's office. The door was open. Odd. Still, she had been trained for so long in protocol that she knocked until his voice beckoned her inside.

The room still smelled the same as when her father had occupied it. The comforting smell of cigars smoked in the night against the wishes of his witches, first Aiko and then later Amara. Now it was Carlo, who occupied the office. Who smoked against the wishes of his own band of witches: wife, sister, brother and son.

He sat at his favorite couch waving her in, wearing a flannel robe. She walked on the Persian carpet set before the giant fireplace, barefoot and coming to take the seat across from him. He was only in his early forties, but his hair had turned white around the same time Roman had died. That combined with the storm blue eyes on his almost Japanese face made him devastatingly handsome.

He smiled - he of the beautiful smile- but it did not quite reach his eyes.

She asked, "Are you cold?" She could not stop the niceties from coming out of her mouth as she leaned forward in her seat, "Would you like me to stoke the fire?"

Without waiting for a reply she pushed her Craft and wood fell into the large fireplace. The heat was not quick enough for her and she increased that as well.

He said nothing, instead watched her as she tucked her feet under her, her fingers grazing the dark leather arm of her chair. She was growing her hair out, and it now tickled her neck.

Thirteen years – a lucky number her father had believed – separated them. She had worshipped him in only the way a younger sister could. Maybe the goddess had been envious in how she had worshipped him and set the events in motion, but Sienna doubted it. This was Carlo's own ego that had led to this, and in that she knew she should have figured it out years ago. He kept his blue-gray eyes trained on her, Arianne's eyes.

"Is Robin safe?" Carlo asked. The past loomed between them. It should have strengthened their bond, but instead it was a chasm that could not be crossed. There was one too many ghosts between them now.

"Maria's child is safe."

His eyes flickered for a moment at the mention of her name.

Sienna continued, "Of Administrator Zaizen we have no word yet."

"I'm sure he had his own procedures set in place. I don't think it will be the last we hear of him."

"Unfortunately no… and he has contacts in places even Solomon cannot reach."

"When the time comes, you will be able to handle it."

She noted the choice of words. Her brother had never been the fool. Ambitious, ruthless, but never a fool.

It would not do, to pretend otherwise and she asked him, finally, "Why did you do it?"

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, and when he looked at her again, there was chaos in them. "You do not know what it is like to desire power. I have been the least of all the Lucas witches in three generations, Sienna. My own son has powers that surpass mine."

"And that warranted our father's death?" She asked. Would she ever forget this conversation, even if she lived twice as many years as Abigail?

"I fear he would have lived forever." And there was that in his voice. Fear. Frustration. Envy.

"It would have come in time," but it sounded untrue as it came out of her mouth. Had Roman died of natural causes he would have assured her ascension, his favorite child. "Why did you do it, Carlo? He loved you so much."

"Ah… yes, but he wanted you to take over, Sienna. And that was unacceptable."

"So unacceptable that you killed him?" Her face pale, lightening flashed in the window as it sparked in the night sky.

"Sienna… Power has always come to you, how could you understand?" He stood, his smile so like Roman's it made her look away. "And he was the fool for letting the Grand Counsel direct him. He brought this organization out of the dark ages and he listened to witches who still lived by an ancient code.

"I understood then that what I did would cost me everything if ever anyone found out. I did not think that they would have sent you to do their bidding."

She took a deep breath then answered, "It was my decision, Carlo. There has been enough blood on the hands of innocents."

"Innocent? The Grand Counsel is bloody with guilt, Sienna. You know that."

"Yes, but in the death of our father, in the killing of innocent witches, in the way you have taken Solomon in the opposite direction of our family's legacy – opposite what the Fifteen Families desired… in that you are the only one to blame, Carlo."

He kneeled in front of her seat, his hands finding the side of her face, "Will you be his avenging angel, sweet, sweet Sienna?"

Carefully, he turned her head so that she was made to look at the large portrait above the fireplace of Roman Lucas, sitting in contemplation. A brass plaque underneath it said, _Beloved Father and Leader._

A tear fell from her eyes and she cursed the weakness. "Why didn't you kill me, too, since I stood in your way?"

If he had meant her dead, she would have died with Roman, she understood that… but she did not know why he had saved her. And so she craned her neck up towards him – one last time. He placed a kiss on her forehead and whispered close to her ear, "Because, Sienna… who else will lead after me?"

"Carlo…"

"Shh… I did what I thought I had to do all those years ago, though you hate me for it. Does your mother know – did my mother know?" He placed his hand behind her head and their eyes met. Arianne's eyes, Roman's eyes, the color of the darkening sky – the only ones of his children who had inherited it, linking them again in another way.

"No, as far as I know, Aiko never knew. I would never have told her and I have not told Amara… They loved you, too."

He understood that. Frowning he pulled away from her leaning back on his ankles and asked, "Are you strong enough to do this?"

She nodded, swallowing hard.

"I have been waiting for a long time to pay my dues, Sienna. Father haunts me, requires my presence next to him… perhaps in the next life, he will forgive me. Even if you will not."

She understood that. That he had orchestrated even this… he had allowed Terri to scrye him. And her brother was no fool.

He nodded, at her unspoken question and placed a kiss on her cheek, "I think he cursed me before he died… and it has been eating at me ever since. Do what you must, to right our wrongs, mine… and Roman's."

He squeezed her hand, and when he pulled away from her face his eyes gave her permission. Had they not she did not knowif she would have run. She was strong in all things, and had killed her share of people… but this was Carlo.

_He killed our father. _Henri's voice full of pain and betrayal after she had told him the truth of almost all of it. Henri's summer-blue eyes had shown no remorse when she had said she had permission from the counsel to avenge Roman's death. _So be it, Sienna. If you cannot do it, I will._

And she would spare Henri this pain. It was for her to carry out, her blood price for ascension.

"I love you, Carlo," she whispered as her Craft swelled inside of her and she directed itat him, feeling the steady beats of his heart under their joined hands… even in this he had no fear. Slowly, she _squeezed _until his heart burst and it was she who still cried in the end.

* * *

A/N Thanks for the kind reviews. It's 1:15 am here, so if any one sees any glaring discrepancies, please email them to me and I'll make the changes. 


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